Phantom Wishes
by PartyPenguina3
Summary: The dangers of an opera ghost, a spoiled noble, and a Prima Donna creating New Year's resolutions, and the crazy mess that follows. Just a humorous story told in a few chapters. Starts in the downtime after the unmasking but before the rooftop confessions. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This takes place after Christine's first performance as Prima Donna and subsequent Prima Donna-napping, but before the events on the rooftop. This is all purely humor, so of course it's not going to entirely fit canon. Enjoy!

_Phantom Wishes_

Chapter 1

Erik stared down at the blank piece of paper in front and wondered why on earth he was doing this again.

Oh yes, because Christine had superior arguing skills. Of course.

"Erik, everyone's making New Year's Resolutions! Even Firmin and Richard and Piangi and Meg and Carlotta and Raoul and Madame Giry…"

"RAOUL is making a New Year's Resolution? Now I really don't want to! I'm not going to be lowered to the same level as that fop!"

Christine huffed in exasperation. "Erik, you KNOW the nature of my relationship with Raoul. We've been over this countless times, with you looking in every nook and cranny of my explanation for some kind of loophole I'm using to lie to you."

"Yes, yes, I know… but I can still hate him! He has this long blond pony tail that's always incredibly greasy… I mean seriously, it's terribly ironic! I am the definition of hygiene –but have a disgusting face, and his face belongs to Prince Charming –but he has the most disgusting cleanliness practices I've ever seen. Does he even WASH himself?"

"…Sometimes."

"I think my point's proven."

Christine slammed the piece of paper down, anger blazing in her eyes.

"Raoul's hygiene holds no bearing over writing a New Year's resolution. If you don't write one, I will tell Carlotta all of your ventriloquism tricks to get her to sound like a toad!"

Erik muttered briefly before picking up the pen and doodling on the corner of the paper. "Fine. You win this one. There's no way you're messing up my toad jokes."

Christine leaned over his shoulder and squinted. "What are you drawing?"

On the corner of the paper, in a matter of seconds, Erik had drawn a perfect to scale version of the Mona Lisa.

"Look, just brainstorm ideas, not paintings!"

She stalked out of the room, and headed through one of the hidden passageways back towards her dressing room.

Erik's mind returned to the present. Well how was he supposed to create a New Year's Resolution? It wasn't like this was he first time he'd done it… but they all seemed to have this terrible manner of failing. At first it had been simple little things, like a mysterious violin smashing when his resolution had been to learn to play, but the failures soon became bigger and bigger. Over the years he sought more and more obscure topics in an attempt to prevent them from coming to fruition.

He had felt SO confident about last year's plan. How was he to know that he would break "I will not kidnap any cast members"?

Well… it hadn't really turned into kidnap until he had kept Christine down in his lair for a few days… was that really breaking his resolution?

Gah, this year he would just have to choose the most obscure one he could!

In a stroke of brilliance, Erik scribbled down his resolution.

"I will not kill Carlotta. That's pretty obscure. I mean, what are the odds I'd kill one specific person? Oh… wait…"

Yeah, Carlotta probably wasn't the best choice to not kill. There was a decent chance of that one.

Erik ripped off the part of the paper he had written that on. Well, who else could he not kill?

Carlotta, Carlotta, Carlotta… PERFECT.

Erik scribbled his new resolution down quickly, and read it, quite proud of himself.

With a smug smile, Erik pocketed the paper and strode off to the stage –he still hadn't finished dropping props on the managers.

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Christine rolled the stem of the rose between her fingers.

After her last performance, she had received yet another of the beautiful thorn-less roses that were Erik's trademark. Personally, she believed the removal of the thorns was not for her safety, but because Erik probably used them in one of his many traps throughout the cellars below the opera house.

A chamber full of rose thorns that a victim would fall into. Yep, that sounded like Erik.

Popping the rose behind her ear, Christine stared down at the blank piece of paper in front of her. Despite chastising Erik about his lack of a New Year's Resolution, she too had not yet thought of one.

She stood up and faced the mirror, hoping to seek out her inner flaws from her outward appearance. Well, the mirror itself gave her a few hints anyways…

Christine plopped back into her chair, and hastily scrawled "I will tell Erik how I feel about him." Well… there was one very good reason she hadn't… His temper tantrums rather scared her, and he had the strange ability to react the ONLY way she hadn't planned for. Really, how did he find those outcomes?

Why not just get to the core of THAT flaw?

"I will stop being a spineless wimp, and finally find myself some determination."

As if that would happen.

Well, onto the next option.

Christine turned back to the mirror and her eyes roamed downwards before settling on her waist.

Was it really getting that large? Over the past few weeks MAYBE she had too many of Meg's cookies and treats… but that really couldn't change her waist so fast, could it?

Christine began to panic. At this rate, she'd end up having to wear Carlotta's old costumes!

With a gasp of horror, Christine scribbled out her previous resolution, and changed it quickly to "I shall not become an overweight virago."

Hurrying out of her room, she ran out of the Opera Populaire and onto the streets of Paris, desperate for some exercise.

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Raoul looked again at his reflection in the mirror.

He was gorgeous. So gorgeous. People should stop in the streets and admire his beauty. Possibly he should look into getting a sculptor to carve his face in marble, so people could stare at it in awe for all eternity…

He really needed to look into that.

Pulling a comb out of a nearby drawer, he pulled out his hair ribbon and let his hair cascade over his shoulders before flipping it a few times.

With at least ten hair-flips under his belt that day, Raoul proceeded to comb his hair through and through before deciding what to do with it. A special event like New Year's Eve called for a special hairdo.

Opening one of the many cabinets chocked full of beauty products in his bathroom, he selected a new hair gel that seemed incredibly stiff. He dug a hearty lump out and rolled it around his fingers a little before beginning to massage it into his scalp.

Slicking his hair back, Raoul brought all of his locks back as he would when preparing a ponytail. However, he ran the gel all the way through his hair, pulling it completely backwards so it stood straight back, parallel to the horizon.

Nodding his approval into the mirror, Raoul wound his ribbon around the very back of his head, careful to keep the hair in place. This would look just wonderful at the next opera performance. He was going to make another public appearance with Christine, and definitely have some people around to here them "confess their love" to each other.

He hoped the silly whore was smart enough not to mess even that up. Really, after her first performance as Prima Donna, she had DISAPPEARED for a few days. Who did she think she was? She was supposed to be seen on his arm all throughout Parisian society!

Ah well, not EVERYTHING in his life could be perfect. Although he did deserve perfection in everything…

That moment, there was a sharp rap on his door. Wrapping his silk robe tighter around himself, he opened the door to find his personal butler and Christine.

"Mademoiselle Daae is here to take you to the opera."

"Thank you, Xander. Come in, Christine."

Christine trotted in the door, dressed in far too simple of a gown. Raoul eyed it with distaste. It simply didn't have enough jewels.

Raoul slammed the door closed and walked to his room, gesturing at Christine to wait on the couch in the foyer.

Sighing, Christine waited until his bedroom door clicked shut before jumping off the couch and bouncing over to the bathroom. She looked into the mirror, and stared at her waist, willing it to get smaller. It HAD to be smaller than it was this morning! She had run all over Paris!

Yes… it did seem to be a little bit smaller. Victory! Christine placed her hands on the counter, only to recoil seconds later, holding her left hand near her face and examining the gooey substance now coating her palm.

She looked down at the counter, and noticed the offending object. _Newman's Hair Gel- guaranteed to turn you into a new man!_ How utterly repulsive, the things Raoul would put in his hair… his hair had looked stupid enough as it was when she had walked in the door, and it appeared to be incredibly hard. He could probably knock a nail in with that massive spike of hair…

Turning around in search of an old towel, she found nothing besides Raoul's cherished pink one. She used it to wipe the disgusting slime off of her hand. She glanced at the towel, noting that the goo had already hardened. Eh… Raoul wasn't smart enough to notice.

Exiting the room and settling herself on the plush couch again, Christine awaited her "date". Jesus, he spent so much time pampering himself and getting dressed that they probably wouldn't make it to the Opera Populaire in time for her to be seen on his arm before heading off to be dressed and have makeup applied. Honestly, what did they pay her for when he pulled crap like this?

Half an hour passed before Raoul finally exited his room, dressed in a frilly bright blue suit.

"Raoul, do you have your New Year's Resolution ready? Social butterflies love to gossip about that kind of junk and I'm sure they'll ask you at the opera…"

"Are you an idiot? Of course I have a New Year's Resolution! To buy enough hair ribbons to cover an entire wall in my bedroom. Wouldn't that be cool? Ribbon wallpaper! Wow…"

"But… if you glue them all to your wall, you won't be able to wear any of them."

"Oh…"

"I think you seriously need to rethink this one."

"Anddddddd WHY can't YOU think of one for me?"

"Not part of the job description. Just appearing on your arm in public."

"Stop being so sassy you lowly slut! Fine, I'll have to think of one on our way over there…"

Christine stalked out of the room, and Raoul followed closely behind. They walked an arm's length apart down the hallway and out the door to the awaiting carriage, and set out towards the opera house.

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**A/N** I certainly enjoyed writing this, so I hope readers enjoyed it as well!  
There'll be three or four more chapters to go along with this, wrapping up exactly what's going on with Christine and Raoul, Opera shenanigans, and of course, Erik…

Please review if you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

_Phantom Wishes_

_Chapter 2_

Erik stomped around his lair.

How dare the managers put CARLOTTA in the role of the duchess in Il Muto! He had made his objections to the matter QUITE clear when he had left them all those notes.

Seriously, they just did not appreciate his work. It usually took him at least an hour to perfectly mix fear, threats, recommendations, and criticism into his letters. With too much of any ingredient, the bumbling oafs might get so scared they would cancel the performance for that night.

Well... maybe that WAS the problem. While threats were present in the letters, they tended to be subtle undertones and puns about the outcome. He had thought they were obvious enough, but Firmin and Andre were rather stupid... it was quite possible they simply didn't understand Carlotta's performance meant more than a few dropped sets.

Hmm... Maybe looking into including picture diagrams in his letters would be a good idea...

Muttering darkly under his breath, Erik sat down at his desk and began to cut a sheet of paper into many equal sized squares.

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"Andre, look!" Firmin gasped.

"What is it?"

"There's... another note. Er, well a few notes..."

"Well, what do they say? I haven't got all day for that ghost's shenanigans..."

"I think you should take a look for yourself. I've only opened the first one, and then I resealed it as quickly as possible."

Andre began rocking his chair back and forth, hoping to achieve enough momentum to launch his overweight frame from his sitting position.

Flying forward and stumbling, Andre came to rest at Firmin's desk.

On the desk were three envelopes, each labeled in the order in which they were to be opened.  
Andre picked up the first envelope and turned it over.

"Oh, look at this seal. A skull. How pleasant. I certainly hope he's sending us good wishes for our health..."

Firmin just paled a little more, and said nothing.

Andre slid his letter opener under the tab, and pried open the envelope. Simple instructions were written on the inside.

_Choose one._

Andre turned the letter upside down and shook it, and five pieces of paper fell out.

Each piece was on thick paper, and was labeled in bright red ink (at least that's what Andre hoped it was) with a name. Carlotta, Firmin, Andre, Buquet, and... Some kind of blob.

"What's this one say, Firmin?" Andre turned the card sideways and pulled his spectacles down onto his nose, peering intently at the angry scrawl.

"You know, I'm not quite sure. The first letter is an R, and the second an A, but after that it appears our resident ghost just stabbed the paper a few times in rage. "

"Well, I would understand if that was Carlotta's name, but I really don't know anyone whose name starts with RA. Maybe... isn't there someone named Regulus Arcturus Black that lives down the street? Could it be him?"

Firmin shook his head. "I don't really get the feeling the Phantom gets out much, so I don't see how he would know him in the first place..."

"Huh. Well I guess that one could be someone important, and whatever the ghost is plotting is sure to be bad, so let's just choose Buquet. He smells almost as bad as Raoul."

"That's it! Raoul! He's the last card!"

"Oh, that would explain the hatred stabs. Raoul sat in Box Five the other day, so maybe he's angry that it reeks of body odor and filth. I would be angry too if some idiot made my room smell like that."

"Quite right. Unfortunately, we can't choose him for whatever he's planning, as we need to siphon money off of him to run the Opera Populaire."

"Oh well, let's go with Buquet."

"Righto, my friend."

Firmin picked up the Buquet card and placed it on the table. Andre grabbed the second envelope and tore it open. Four more cards fell out.

"Ooh, Firmin, these cards have mathematical symbols! That's not going to make this easy to understand..."

The four cards read minus Christine singing, plus Carlotta singing, minus happy Opera Ghost, and plus atrocious toads.

"Oh god, it's been a long time since I did math... "

"Umm... the most I know is plus Carlotta singing and minus Christine singing mean the same thing."

"Well, the Opera Ghost is happy when Christine's singing, so if she's not... minus happy Opera Ghost means the same thing."

"And we all know he's been calling Carlotta a toad for years."

"So they all mean the same thing? Well plus atrocious toads sounds least offensive to him, so let's go with that one."

Andre laid the plus atrocious toads card next to Buquet's name. "Now for the last envelope."

Firmin held the third letter away from himself like it was a bomb, as Andre slowly slid the letter opener against the final seal.

The seal broke, and at least ten cards fell out.

Andre and Firmin froze, aghast at what they were seeing on the cards.

"Equals a broken chandelier?"

Firmin flipped over another card. "This one says equals a magical lasso and has a diagram of said lasso and a body..."

The pair continued flipping over cards. Rampant fires, poisoned goblets, sets replacing the blades in guillotines, guns, a drowning person, an alligator pit, and a room full of mirrors decorated the cards.

"Andre, what's this one? All the other ones were pretty clear, but this one has some roses on it, so it can't be all bad..."

A small diagram of a trapdoor above a pit was drawn on the card. Two roses hung from the ceiling of the pit, and they were completely thornless. Below, there were small triangular objects filling the chamber below.

"Huh. It looks like one of those new fangled ball pits. You know, the ones little kids play in?"

"Oh, yeah, it does! But those look significantly less comfortable than balls... they look like little spikes, or maybe even roses thorns."

"Strange threat of death. All of these are ridiculous!" Andre tossed the cards in the air, and the equals magical lasso landed right next to the plus atrocious toads card.

A low throaty chuckle echoed around the office. Firmin and Andre both froze, momentarily incapacitated before they regained control of their movements and proceeded to duck under Firmin's desk and cower in fear. A light breeze caused papers around the room to flutter; the managers slinked farther under the desk. The breeze grew into a gust, and into a wind, and into a full on gale. The cards on Firmin's desk jumped in the wind and swirled about in the air, raining down all over the room.

The gale stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the laughter echoed away.

Andre peeked his nose around the corner. "He's gone!"

"Well, we never saw him to begin with, so we don't really know that."

"Oh, shut up."

The two managers stood and dusted off their trousers, before turning their heads to the mess that was now Firmin's desk.

Papers were scattered everywhere, and the little cards and their envelopes had flown around the room. Andre stooped to pick one up. "Let's make sure that we keep these in their separate envelopes... I never want to hear that laugh again."

The pair scuttled around the room, sweeping the various bills and taxes into a pile, and carefully replacing each pictograph into their respective envelopes. Andre looked at the clock and started.

"We only have an hour left before rehearsal! We have to ready everything in less than an hour!" Andre pulled out large chunks of his already sparse hair.

Shoving the three envelopes in his pocket, Firmin raced out the door, followed closely by a huffing and puffing Andre.

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Christine lagged farther and farther behind Raoul each time he approached another noble. While this would all be fine and dandy if it was some boring business matter he felt the need to discuss, Christine was beginning to get rather sick of hearing him squeal and ask where all of the noble ladies had bought their dresses.

It really didn't occur to him that the aristocracy still used tailors.

Glancing again at the neighboring lord's pocket watch, she was overjoyed that it was time to make it to rehearsal.

Sauntering over to Raoul, she placed her arm on his and gave him a simpering look that likely permanently mentally scarred all in the immediate vicinity.

"I'm so upset... I have to go to rehearsal now. But rest assured, after the performance I'll be wide awake with you the whoooolllleee rest of the night." Christine winked mischievously before turning on her heel and walking slowly away. As she left, the rest of the eligible rich daughters ground their teeth in anger that she was the one Raoul had chosen: the majority of them had been vying for the handsome blond since their teen years.

The moment she was around the corner, Christine practically skipped down the rest of the hallway. Completely free! Maybe she would even get a glimpse of Erik preparing some terrible trick on Carlotta during rehearsal...

Yes, that seemed like one of the few ways to make her day even better than it already was.

**A/N**

Whoopsies… I was hoping to update this sooner, but all of my teachers decided January was a perfect month to give as much homework as possible. I heartily apologize that I am a terribly slow updater, and I sincerely hope bumbling managers, and the actual existence of Erik's pit of thorns makes up for it.

Please drop me a review with any suggestions/what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Updating... heh... yeah... heh. I'M SORRY I SUCK AT LIFE.**

**Chapter 3**

Having arrived at the stage, Christine found she was a little upset. Well, maybe a lot upset.

Her day had been going splendidly; Raoul had made himself look like a fool, she had spent time with Erik, she was surrounded by pre-performance hype, and she had received a hefty amount of money for merely wandering around with a spoiled noble. Couldn't be better.

Then of course, Buquet had come along.

"Why hewwo, sweat ting." Buquet grinned up at her, flashing a sloppy smile. He was obviously drunk.

As Christine usually did when she found something foul smelling and irksome in her way, she ignored him and continued on her way. Then, a greasy hand shot out and grabbed her leg, causing her to stumble forward before crashing gracelessly to the ground.

"I wassn done talkin'!" He had lowered his voice to be menacing, but it had failed miserably: he sounded like Batman going through puberty.

Feeling no fear, Christine gave him a winning smile, while reaching around her neck to unhook her necklace. The chain bore a rather large emerald (one of Raoul's favorite dress up pieces), and it was quite heavy. And hard. Oh yes, it was very hard.

Unsnapping the clasp, Christine swung the necklace like a whip, bringing the stone crashing down on Buquet's skull. With a resounding _bonk!_ Buquet's eyes rolled up before he hit the floor.

Caring little, the future Prima Donna straightened herself out and swished around the corner.

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When the show had begun, patrons had been squirming in their seats in anticipation.

Now, that was not the case.

Carlotta flounced about stage with so many layers of fabric plastered on her that her movements were seen as quite an impressive feat. However, that did not change the fact that the stage shook every time she landed. Her pathetic attempts to display "seduction" of the servant boy were so horrendous that even Piangi seemed appalled.

Then, there was her singing.

The most recent slew of high notes had broken several patrons' opera glasses, causing great alarm and pain as small shards of glass exploded around their faces. The crystals on the chandelier also seemed to be vibrating at a nerve-wracking pace.

Groaning internally, Christine gave Carlotta a loving smile as she remained silent while Carlotta cackled on.

High overhead, Erik's musical senses had gone into overload.

_Gah! Tonight had started out splendidly. Raoul made himself look like a fool, I got to spend some time with Christine, I have great pre-murder hype, and I received a hefty sum for wandering through walls threatening managers. Couldn't be better. _

Buquet had practically been gift-wrapped for him too, which was a surprising treat. Despite the fact that Buquet bothered almost everyone, most people pitied his terribly ugly face that refused him female affections too much to care. Not that that had ever helped Erik...

The body was situated on the railing with noose round the neck. All it would take was one little push and Buquet's body would fall right over, snapping his neck and giving the managers quite a wondrous shock. Now, all he had to do was wait for Christine to exit the stage before he dropped the bomb. She had no need to see this, nor did he want her getting hurt by the oaf's soon to be corpse. Ah, if only he could watch the scene from Box 5...

All of a sudden, a bright blue blob of frills caught Erik's eye.

Raoul. Raoul was sitting in Box 5.

Erik saw red.

The last time Raoul had sat in Erik's precious box, it had smelled like fish for weeks, and that hadn't been the worst of it. The seat Raoul had been using -which happened to be Erik's favorite- had been stained so much that it now resembled a brown rather than a deep red. Erik had stepped in some disgusting pile of gooey beauty product. There had been an ant invasion because of all the food Raoul had managed to shove INSIDE the chair, and the stench of body odor still lingered in the curtains to this day.

It could not happen again. Never again.

Erik reached out involuntarily, hoping to wring Raoul's neck despite his distance; in the end, Erik ended up huffing and puffing, using all of his mental "force" to crush Raoul's windpipe.

Regrettably, nothing happened on Raoul's end.

However, one gentle nudge from Erik's arm did cause some things to happen on his end.

Buquet's body slipped over the edge, accelerating rapidly as it crashed onto part of the set with a resounding crash before continuing its fall, ending with a sickening snap.

Erik peered over the edge.

_It didn't even bop Carlotta on the head... damn. _

And then the screaming began.

Well, at least he could get some Opera Ghost magic out of this.

"Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!"

Carlotta's screeches of terror continued to echo about the theater. Erik glanced up at the chandelier. Was it just him, or was it wobbling just a little bit? That rope didn't seem like it could hold much longer...

The managers sitting in Box 5 with Raoul began to shudder even more so than they already had been. Andre felt his pants grow wet as he lost control of his body in fright. That chandelier DID look like it was about to come down.

"Fir-Firmin?"

"Yes, And-Andre?"

"He went through with the cards. That was definitely a magi-magical lasso. And I th-think the chan-chandelier..."

At that moment, the rope supporting the chandelier snapped, bringing the whole mess toppling down in a waterfall of shimmering crystals.

Erik could have sworn he had never seen anything so beautiful as that chandelier falling to the ground before the crystals exploded into powdery dust.

Well, besides Christine of course.

_Christine! Was she offstage before the body fell? Oh please, oh please..._

Erik hurried down a nearby ladder before slipping into the wall to find his beloved.

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Raoul was furious. Now Christine had not only spoiled his pampering rituals, failed to adequately express her utter devotion to him in front of enough of his friends, and been just irritating overall, but now she had actually ruined an OPERA.

Yes, yes, it might have been the Opera Ghost who had done it, but Raoul considered anything that could be blamed on one blamable on the other.

He needed to find her, NOW, and she needed to explain.

Raoul turned to the managers and slapped each across the face before leaving with a huff of indignation. The nerve of these people!

The frilly blue suit fanned out behind him, leaving the appearance that he had an excellent cape in addition to his perfectly styled hair.

It was a combination of those two ridiculous appearances that alerted Christine to his presence.

"Raoul! What do you want?" She wasn't in the mood to deal with his crap, so the sooner done, the better.

Raoul was stunned. A mere WOMAN, talking to HIM, the god of beauty, that way? Absurd! She had some explaining to do. "Come on, get up to the rooftop so you can explain this to me. God, you just HAVE to go and ruin my perfect days. You gave me tons of stress! I'm going to get wrinkles!" Raoul's ending sentence turned into a wail of distress.

"Fine. Let's go."

The pair navigated their way through large crowds, and as they ascended the stairs to the roof, a pair of golden eyes followed them from a hole in the wall.

"Gah! I knew there was something more between them! Why else would they go off to the roof now, when there's no one around to catch them." Erik began climbing his own set of stairs, racing at a frantic pace to beat the "lovebirds" to the roof.

Despite Erik's best efforts, Christine and Raoul arrived there before him.

"You stupid little slut! You can't even do your job right! You didn't even scream my name in horror that we would be separated from each other forever when that chandelier came crashing down. Why are you so damn selfish? Vain little-"

Christine couldn't believe her ears. "I'm selfish? And VAIN? Have you even LOOKED in a mirror lately? Oh yes, you have. You had to style your hair to perfection to get that thick hardened look to it. It looks like you soaked that disgusting ponytail in plaster. Yet, for all the staring at yourself in a mirror you do, you don't seem to get the message that you're absolutely filthy. I swear, you make your own filth. Don't talk to me about being selfish and vain, idiot."

"Ha! As if you know the first thing about being beautiful. I DO look at myself in mirrors a lot, and I'll tell you, I look AMAZING. I am SO beautiful. I could get any girl -or guy- that I wanted."

"Oh yes, let's not forget about the guy part. Honestly, I'm playing the beard part perfectly, it's YOU who stumbles making moony eyes at any guy you see. Honestly, if it moves and doesn't have breasts you start batting your eyes at it!"

Raoul's temper flared. "You know what? I don't need you. You're just a burden to- What was that?" Raoul grew perceptibly more nervous as a rustling came from a nearby corner.

Erik had just pulled himself out through a window by the Apollo's Lyre statue. Unfortunately, Christine and Raoul had stopped talking, and he had been paying too little attention to notice whatever they had said before. His efforts had been focused on more important things, like preventing his intestines from being squished.

Concealing himself behind the statue, he made no noise, waiting for them to resume their conversation.

Raoul leaned close to Christine, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "Christine, what do we do? I can't let the whole world know that I'm-"

"Oh really? You were ready to scream it to the world a matter of seconds ago. What was it you said? That I was a burden?" Christine murmured back.

A large stack of bills was pushed into her hand. Her lips curved into a smile and she looked back at him. "Well, all we need to do is convince whoever's listening of our undying love."

"Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime... Say you need me with you, now and always... Promise me that all you say is true -that's all I ask of you." _Oh, you know, not asking much at all from this slob... _

"Anywhere you go, let me go too -Christine, that's all I ask of you." Even to Raoul it sounded pitifully obvious that he did not share the sentiments he claimed to.

"I LOVE you SO MUCH, RAOUL. You're such an amazing LOVER and I want to be with you FOREVER and EVER, maybe we'll even GET MARRIED and HAVE CHILDREN. What do you think about that?" Christine shot Raoul a glare to continue the charade.

Erik didn't need to stick around for that.

With a strangled sob, he pushed his way back into the window. He had always known that Christine could never love him, and it disgusted him to know that she chose Raoul over him.

_Christine and Raoul, you will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you..._

**A/N: School ends tomorrow, so I promise a speedy update. I wrote this in only a few hours, so I'm sure I can pop out the final chapter super soon. As usual, please drop a review with any constructive criticism or other comments!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After having Buquet's body nearly crash onto her unsuspecting head, Christine felt she had more than a few words to have with Erik.

Thoroughly convinced that she and Raoul had tricked whatever eavesdroppers had been lurking on the roof into thinking they were actually in love, she felt ready to tackle that challenge. In comparison to pretending she loved one she obviously hated so much, chastising Erik should be relatively easy. That is, unless he distracted her with some tasty fresh baked treats.

For someone who didn't eat very much, Erik knew how to cook damn well.

She slipped into her dressing room, locking the door behind her. After a few minutes of effort, Christine stood in shock in front of the gilded mirror; despite her desperate tugs, it would not open.

Christine felt a bit uneasy.

Why wouldn't the door open? She wasn't incompetent enough to fail at even opening a secret passage, was she? It had to be Erik's doing.

Now Christine was just downright irritated. Erik had the costume she needed for the masquerade, which was in less than an hour! It had taken hours of collaboration with Erik to somewhat match his costume while removing the intense death theme, and she wasn't going to let that go down the drain because whatever he had been planning onstage hadn't gone perfectly. She NEEDED that costume; if she didn't get it in time, she would have to wear the horrible dress Raoul had brought with them.

Christine suppressed a shudder. While Raoul had been absolutely thrilled with it, Christine felt being dressed as a peacock with a to-scale tail wasn't the BEST idea in the world, especially when that it offered Carlotta many opportunities to sneak up on her from behind under the cover of many iridescent feathers.

Sighing, Christine settled on using the second best method of communicating with Erik (face to face confrontation being the best) -Giry mail.

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Madame Giry made her way through one of the passages only she knew about, note in hand. Christine had hunted her down only an hour after the performance and had nagged her relentlessly until she agreed to descend into Erik's labyrinth.

As she rounded the final corner to Erik's lair, Madame Giry was surprised to see the wreckage in his home. Bookshelves had been toppled, furniture ripped, instruments smashed, and... was that a SHRINE to Christine? If so, it was in quite a state of disarray.

A loud, sobbing noise alerted Madame Giry to Erik's presence. She walked across his living room to his bedroom, from which the sobs appeared to be emanating. Pushing open the door a crack, she was shocked by the scene.

Erik lay in his coffin, sobbing profusely and half dressed. It had appeared he had begun to get dressed for the masquerade, but had given up halfway through. As a result, there were red feathers strewn everywhere. Half of Erik's clothes were that of Red Death, and the sword was hung limply at his waist.

However, that was not the worst part.

Wrapped in his arms, being peppered with kisses, was a photo of himself and Christine smiling placed in a heart shaped frame.

Madame Giry was disgusted. He had a heart shaped frame?

In a matter of seconds, she became far more shocked than disgusted.

Erik could SMILE?

Shaking her head in confusion, Madame Giry pounded roughly on the door before barging her way in. Erik looked up before plopping the Red Death mask on his face and hiding the framed photograph behind his back, evidently trying to cover up his weakness.

"I have a letter for you." Madame Giry plopped the note into the coffin, and twisted away as fast as possible, yearning to leave the room where such raw emotion existed. It was almost in danger of melting her cold exterior.

As she sprinted out of the room, she heard another round of bawling start up as she could only imagine Erik had opened the letter.

It only occurred to her as she was paddling across the lake that something very dreadful must have happened, because Erik crying was a very strange sight. Her small brain struggled to determine what it was, but she promptly gave up: emotions were not her forte.

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Erik threw the letter across the room in a fit of rage, brandishing his sword wildly as the note flew threw the air, turning it into quite a bit of confetti.

She runs off with that FOP and continues to pretend she loves him, even going so far as to use him for a costume?

His eyes blazed. Never again would he fall victim to a cheating woman. Never. Especially to one who cheated on him with the very embodiment of filth.

He would make his presence known at the masquerade that night... she would never forget who she had crossed.

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An hour later, Christine was hiding behind a statue, draining yet another glass of champagne.

Oh yes, the masquerade was going just exceedingly well. She had been forced into that repulsive peacock costume of Raoul's which regrettably matched his blue frilly suit all too well. It was just so damn _heavy_: the numerous jewels adorning it were cumbersome. Carlotta was dressed as some kind of cat -clearly another poor attempt to be seductive. She had even received a few nervous compliments on her singing from ancient suitors who could not be swayed by her terrible personality. Christine felt nauseous every time she heard praise of Carlotta's beauty and screeching by those evidently looking for an opera tart. Christine supposed she must have been mistaken when she had thought Carlotta's personality was a powerful enough contraceptive on its own.

However, there were one or two good points... Meg was still present on the dance floor (which meant she couldn't be off slumming it with some random patron) and Andre and Firmin seemed to have drowned their inhibitions in alcohol and were looking at each other adoringly in a more than platonic manner.

Thank god. Christine had been rooting for them all along.

Those two good points -despite the happiness they brought Christine- could not compensate for a more important matter: Erik.

Erik had blown her off! After all the work they had put in, he had completely disregarded her note. She hadn't seen him yet either... maybe she should give him the benefit of doubt. Maybe he accidentally fell into his thorn pit and was at home recovering, in no state to attend a dance and appear in all his glory.

Christine's eyes widened. What if he had been caught after he dropped Buquet?! He could be languishing in prison right now, and she was being so selfish and vain...

Christine started to laugh. _The police catch Erik! What an idea. God, Christine, sometimes you can be so stupid. That's completely ludicrous. _

That certainly wasn't it.

Then where was he?

There was a blast on the top of one of the stairs; red smoke started to flood the air on the second floor. All chatter died down instantly.

A figure clad entirely in red stepped out of the mist, holding a shining sword in hand that matched the gleam in the eyes just visible under the skull mask.

Well, there was her answer.

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Erik's eyes swept the silenced crowd.

He saw fear, anger, drunken confusion, regular confusion, and... was Christine looking _petulant_?

He saw red again, but this time it wasn't the smoke.

One foot followed the other gracefully down the stairs, moving deliberately slow in the hopes that those previously unaware of his presence knew who he was. Really, who else would come dressed as Red Death than the Phantom himself? The rest of the costumes resembled cute little chipmunks compared to him.

The crowd parted with gasps of fear -his favorite noise- and he glided across the floor to Christine. Literally, glided. He had installed small wheels in the bottoms of his shoes for expressly that purpose. It helped his ghost image immensely when he performed simple tricks like that; most opera goers weren't intelligent enough to figure out the trick, by the end of the night, he would have people claiming he swooped across the room like a gigantic bat.

As he reached Christine he stopped, drawing himself to his full height and gazing down at her with an expression of condescending disapproval. She looked like a common hooker!

Erik was rather upset to realize she couldn't see his perfected expression under his full mask.

No matter. He could still say what needed to be said.

"Christine... I wondered when I'd see you again."

A winning smile lit up Christine's face; "Really? I was thinking the same thing. Because, you know, you locked my mirror." Their voices were barely a whisper, but almost everyone in the ballroom was hanging onto their every word.

"You dare question the motives of the Phantom?" Erik's eyes flashed and he threw more smoke bombs, enveloping the area in a dark black smoke.

Christine rolled her eyes; "Please. As if that would faze me. I've seen more horrifying things during rehearsal."

Erik's eyes flashed again; "Your insolence angers me. You are an ungrateful lying slut who prostitutes herself out for money. You don't deserve my expert teaching; I've seen the mistake that I made. You know what I asked of you Christine, in return for all the favors I lavished on you? _Love me, that's all I ask of you..._"

Eyes widened in shock as the singer processed what he had said. "That was YOU on the roof? Erik, I swear, it's not what it seem-"

With a whirl of his cape and a clang of a sword, the Phantom disappeared from sight.

Christine collapsed on the floor, sobbing. "No, Erik, please!"

He wasn't listening.

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_Three months later_

The opening performance of Don Juan was to be that night, and Erik had plotting to do.

He absolutely couldn't stand to see the fop following Christine around despite her rebuffs. Erik knew that this rebuttal had to be a public thing, something to win back the ghost's favor, while the pair privately engaged in unspeakable acts.

He wouldn't fall for it. He was a strong, independent man who didn't need some woman bossing him around.

However, that didn't mean he wouldn't kidnap Christine. At least he'd be in charge then, and she'd be out of the fop's greasy grasp.

If Erik couldn't have her, the slimeball certainly couldn't either.

And so, a plot had hatched.

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"My makeup! It's MISSING! What's happened? Who took it? WHERE IS IT?" Raoul's shrieks echoed around his mansion, causing Christine to cover her ears and wince at the sound. If he hadn't popped one of her eardrums before, he had to have done so by now.

Raoul tore out of his bathroom, eyes wild and roaming independently of each other. Christine had to admit, it was a pretty creepy sight.

"Did _you_ take my makeup?" Raoul's voice was low and venomous, almost succeeding in scaring Christine. She, however, had seen Erik when he hadn't had some yummy pastries as a snack, so she was WELL aware of what scary truly was.

Her slight snort snapped Raoul's temper. He took a step towards her, only to slip and fall on a note his foot had caught. Picking himself up the ground, he opened the letter.

"D- D- Dur, Ral di Changy-"

Christine looked up, unimpressed. "Raoul, do you know how to read?"

He looked offended. "Of course! Didn't you just hear me reading?"

"I heard you mispronounce a bunch of things, if that's what you mean by 'reading'."

With a glare Raoul tossed the letter to her.

"Dear Raoul de Chagny,

I regretfully (not) have to inform you that I have stolen all of your beauty products. I suspect this could only improve your looks, which makes me question why I did it, but I suppose the pain of losing your goo will hurt you more than it will improve your self esteem. Unfortunately, some of your junk got on my suit when I was stealing it. I'll be sure to send the dry cleaning bill to your residence.

Please tell Christine I'll be seeing her shortly.

Ta-ta!

Your faithful servant, O.G.

P.S. Does the loss of your beauty products hurt yet? DOES IT?

Ta-ta for real now." Christine looked up from her perch. "Well, that was an interesting letter."

Raoul continued to wail and sob in his realization that his precious beauty products might never be recovered.

Christine rolled her eyes and stood up. "If you're going to behave this way, I'm just going to get on down to the Opera Populaire for some last minute rehearsal. _Tata!_" Christine held back a derisive snort as she bid him farewell the same way Erik had.

During the carriage ride to the opera house, Christine's spirits dampened.

It had been months since she had heard from Erik, and now he was saying he would see her shortly? That part brought her copious amounts of joy; she had missed Erik immensely. After the masquerade, he had sealed ALL entrances so even Giry mail became a thing of the past. She had no way of communicating with him, and despite her best attempts to shove letters through the cracks around the mirror in her dressing room, they would always be shoved back into her room.

The saddening part came in the realization that Erik had not bothered to deign to write her a letter. He was communicating with her through _hate mail._ Of all the choices he could have made, that was not the kindest to their relationship. He was obviously still laboring under the misguided idea that she was involved with Raoul... and she could only hope to see him tonight to correct it.

Who was she kidding, OF COURSE he would be there tonight. Erik could never resist disrupting a little pomp and circumstance, and tonight would be the perfect time to make his dramatic entrance.

Content in that thought, Christine settled back in her seat to finish the ride.

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Raoul held the polished metal up for inspection reverently.

He had always kept the gun around as a prop and a precaution, but he had never had reason to use it before. Now, though, it would see true glory.

He was going to kill the Phantom. No one touched his beauty products. NO ONE.

His life would end that night.

It wasn't _complete_ though. Not dramatic enough, not ironic enough... the gun needed a _name_.

Raoul raised a sharp pen to the barrel and began carving away.

By the time he finished, it read -in a very sloppy scrawl- _Opear Goest Slyer_.

Tonight it would live up to its name.

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Dancers leapt across the stage, the fire behind them casting ominous shadows on the walls as they danced seemingly without a path. The cacophony of noise produced by the orchestra clashed but each note still managed to flow perfectly into the other.

This was Don Juan. _Chaos._

Behind the stage, Piangi prepared to enter, but his first notes were cut off by a punjab about his neck. His eyes rolled up and his neck snapped -although rather quietly. The fat around his neck had managed to smother the sound.

As Erik removed the lasso and hooked it back on his belt, a small piece of paper fluttered out of his pocket and landed next to the body. He stepped past it without noticing, and walked onto the stage, the first notes of the Point of No Return already being caressed by his velvet voice.

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Christine couldn't hide the smile when Erik emerged on stage. It really was _him_. It had been three months since she'd seen him, and she's had to admit... she'd gotten freakishly obsessed in those three months. She was almost -dare she say it- _a_ _phangirl._

As Erik neared her singing quietly she couldn't help but approach him too, reveling in his presence.

Up in Box 5, Raoul was not so happy.

His shot was clear. He pulled the pistol out of his pocket; _Opear Goest Slyer_ would finally do its work.

He pointed the gun directly at the stage. So what if Christine was a little bit close? She was collateral damage.

Erik looked up at the Box and spotted the gun, grabbing Christine and slashing ropes so the platform they were on crashed to the ground just as Raoul pulled the trigger.

There was no telltale bang.

Raoul looked at the front of the gun, poking it in irritation. Why hadn't it fired? He pulled the trigger again while he stared directly into the barrel. Nope, nothing again.

Firmin and Andre were looking at him in disbelief. How hadn't he just killed himself? The gun was directly pointed at him.

Raoul popped open the cylinder.

No bullets.

"Oh fuck."

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Erik dragged Christine behind the stage, his mask half of in his desperate escape attempt.

"If I can't have your love, than neither can the fop."

"Erik, I don't love Ra-"

"Don't you say his name! I heard those things you said on the rooftop the night of the masquerade."

"Those were all lies. We never meant anything we said. We heard someon-"

"Oh, really now. Lies? Carlotta could put on a better act than you are now. Like I believe that. Lies!" Erik scoffed.

Christine yanked her hand away. "We heard someone rustling around on the roof immediately after RAOUL DECLARED HE WAS GAY. We thought whoever it was had overheard that, so we tried to cover with excessive love and sloppiness. I mean really, all I ask of you is your eternal love and servitude, along with organizing my many beauty products? That's pretty much what marrying Raoul would mean. Don't you think that's a LITTLE much to be asking of someone? Eternal love? That's ALL you ask of them? It's a pretty big order to fill, Erik. I thought you would have recognized terrible acting from all the performances you've seen Carlotta give. Yes, Carlotta could put on a better act, because _this isn't an act_."

Erik mouth was hanging open. "But... but... I heard..."

Christine snorted. "Oh please. Erik, Raoul is obviously gay. He puts gunk in his hair and squeals over dresses, all while winking coquettishly at any available man in the room."

Erik was defeated. "I can't argue with that logic..."

"Erik, I love _you._ Please never make such a ridiculous assumption again."

"I love you too, Christine."

At that point, the pair had reached Piangi's body. Christine gasped in horror before slapping Erik across the face. "Erik! What have I told you about killing people!"

"It was necessary!"

"You could have just tied him up! Just because he loves Carlotta doesn't mean he deserves to die!"

Erik shuffled his feet and mumbled something incoherent.

Christine noticed the piece of paper lying next to Piangi. "What's this...?"

She snatched the paper off the ground. "New Year's Resolution? You made one?"

Erik's eyes widened as he flashed back three months.

_In a stroke of brilliance, he scribbled down his resolution._

_"I will not kill Carlotta. That's pretty obscure. I mean, what are the odds I'd kill one specific person? Oh… wait…"_

_Yeah, Carlotta probably wasn't the best choice to not kill. There was a decent chance of that one._

_He ripped off the part of the paper he had written that on. Well who else could he not kill?_

_Carlotta, Carlotta, Carlotta… PERFECT._

Then, he remembered his thought process at the time. He had figured out someone he likely wouldn't have killed.

While Piangi WAS a fan of Carlotta, he was probably the best male singer the Opera Populaire employed, so it wouldn't do to have him killed. He was also rather kind to everyone on stage. Really, the only problems Erik had with Piangi were his morbid obesity and strange love of Carlotta.

With trembling hands, Erik opened the piece of paper.

_I will not kill Piangi._

Erik looked down from the note at the body.

"Oh shit."

His New Year's resolutions just always had a way of coming true.

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**A/N: So that concludes it! I hope everyone enjoyed the ending… I mean, I only inserted several chapters' worth of fluff in between the joke and its punchline. **

**On a positive note, this only took me a couple of days to post! **

**Whew, that finishes that! Now my shout outs: To You are Love, Phanatic01, Million (who I THINK got an actual account, but I don't know your new penname), EMCLucky13, x-sayrie-x, and Hugabouv, thank you for the reviews. An extra big thank you to Almost an Actress for her lovely reviews on every chapter. **

**I love you too, silent readers. **

**Please drop me a review with opinions! Feedback is gladly welcomed. **


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